


No Shelter

by lostkirin



Category: Tenkuu no Escaflowne | The Vision of Escaflowne
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 15:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6013351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostkirin/pseuds/lostkirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some years after Hitomi's return to Earth, the pillar of light appears once again. Could this be an omen, signalling that the cycle of war in Gaea is about to begin again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Shelter

**Author's Note:**

> Escaflowne is one of my favourite shows of all time. I was never satisfied with the ending, always wishing that it had tied up more of the other characters' stories. Years ago I started writing this fanfic and never finished it; I started writing it again from scratch recently, and plan for it to be the first story that I finish properly. It's about 50% done at the moment. I usually don't share my writing, but figured this time why not. 
> 
> This story follows the POV of a new protagonist, who I've tried to embody with the more of the traits that I wished Hitomi had had a bit more of. I also had a fondness for Allen; I think he is a complex character who never really got the growth he deserved until the very end of the show. 
> 
> Any feedback is appreciated; I am very conscious of rambling (apologies), and have decided not to edit too much otherwise I know I'll never finish! I've tried to stick to the TV show lore, but this might not be 100% accurate.

# Chapter 1

I regained consciousness in waves. Like the tide coming in at the cusp of a terrible storm, one by one, my senses began to scream at me. As I wakened, my eyes tried to flutter open; instantly I became aware of the wind shrilly buffeting my face, my entire body, so strong that I could barely move any of my limbs, and so cold, and then came the point at which my hearing decided to return, the wind screaming in my ears, setting them to ringing. I tried more consciously to open my eyes, eventually managing a forced squint. Panic gripped my insides as utter darkness greeted my sight. For a second I thought I had gone blind, but faster than I could handle, the memories returned, and with that, the knowledge that I was falling, falling, from much higher than I thought possible. Where was the light? It had felt gentle, soothing, spilling over me softly as it had gathered me up, albeit against my will. This darkness; had it abandoned me only to cruelly drop me from a lethal height? As the panic at my helplessness turned to terror at the speeding sensation of falling, I tried to scream, but the wind tore even that from me, and so I plummeted, blind and mute, waiting for the ground to catch me. That was my first memory of the world of Gaea.

Inexplicably, and presumably quite some time later, I woke up. If I hadn’t been in such excruciating pain first and foremost, I would have felt incredulous. Logically, my brain tried to tell me that it was impossible for me to be alive; the speed at which I had been falling, set against the height at which it must have happened … and yet … somehow, this was happening. I was alive. I was lying on my back, and other than a myriad of dull aches and pains across my body, I felt… stiff. Numb. I felt similarly to how I’d felt after sleeping in too long. Except that I was fairly sure that what I had been doing wasn’t exactly sleeping in the traditional sense.

Feeling so disoriented, I hadn’t at first even attempted to open my eyes. I listened first, the sound of birds warbling somewhere nearby and feeling more than hearing that I was apparently alone, I opened my eyes just a crack. Light blinded me, and I croaked out a grunt of pain. Instinctively I tried to fling a hand to shield my eyes, but that just caused a stabbing pain to shoot up my arm, making me gasp in agony. Wisely, I reconsidered moving. I lay still again, my eyes opened barely to slits, as I waited for the pain in my arm to recede. I took even breaths as deeply as I dared; my chest felt strange, tight, and I didn’t dare breathe too deeply for fear of setting off some other strange injury. Slowly, my eyes adjusted to the light. I blinked a few times to try and clear my vision—trying not to grimace as I blinked away the crust of a long sleep.

I focused my recovered sight on my surroundings, still keeping as still as possible. Thankfully the pain in my arm had dulled to a slow throb. I was in a primitive looking room by modern standards. Furniture seemed minimal, though what little there was looked solid and well-made. I was grateful to find I was lying on a bed, although I seemed to have sunk deeply into the middle of the mattress as though there were no springs supporting it. As soon as I became aware of that, I had to fight the urge to roll over onto my side. Gritting my teeth, I risked turning my head to see more of the room. Everything ached.

I croaked out another gasp as I saw the stranger in the room with me. Relief warred with surprise in me as I realised the stranger was asleep. Seated in a wooden, rather rickety looking chair only a short distance from my bedside, I had a clear view of them as they slept.

The stranger was a man. He was dressed unremarkably, although there was something slightly off about his clothing in a way I couldn’t quite put a finger on. He wore a loose white button down shirt, with black trousers and boots. His long blonde hair was pulled back in a tail, and other than a faint shadow of stubble, I imagined he looked the type to usually be clean shaven. Nothing about his person told me who he was or why he had been sat in a room with my unconscious person. I squinted at his face again, but there was nothing at all familiar about him. He looked very tired; dark smudges ringed his eyes. The way his head had fallen forward onto his chest told me he had fallen asleep unintentionally. I considered waking him. As well as some answers, I had realised I was very thirsty after the last few croaks.

Just as I was going to refocus my attention on taking inventory of my injuries, and how capable I might be of at least sitting upright, when his eyes snapped open and I found myself fixed with an icy blue stare. Locking eyes so closely was extremely uncomfortable, and I broke the stare first. The faint remaining threads of ex-military in me realised that so far this man had been quite silent even when sleeping; sitting so close I had not so much as heard his breathing.

I risked another glance at his face, finding that his expression had softened slightly.

“You’re awake,” he said.

I blinked at him, unsure of what to say. I tried to clear my throat, and fought back a cough as I was reminded of how parched I was.

“Water?” I managed to croak at him.

He sat up stiffly, rubbing the back of his neck. I wondered how long he had been sat there, and why. “I’ll call for some,” pausing as he stood. He rubbed his eyes wearily, and brushed down his shirt before heading to the door. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

No need to tell me to stay put, I thought wryly. I couldn’t sit up even if I wanted to, let alone go wandering. He slipped out of the door quietly, and I lay still for a minute, staring up at the ceiling. A strange calm had sank over me. I recalled the panic of falling, numb and frozen. But for some reason the fear was gone; all that was left was the numbness, as though it had leached right out of my body and into my soul. I had felt this before, I noted. With some effort, I hoped, I might be able to snap out of it again.

I returned to controlling my breathing, letting my awareness of the room drift around me as I tried to recap on my situation.

Location; unknown. Injuries; bad, but apparently not life threatening. Hostile surroundings; unknown. Admittedly someone had taken the time and care to bring me here, to a fairly simple but definitely not prison-like room, and tended to my wounds. Possibly out of the goodness of their heart – but unlikely. I cautioned myself to remain on my guard.

No sign of the blonde man’s return, I noticed, glancing again at the door. The more I shifted in the bed, the more the twinges from what must have been various bruises jerked me awake. I tried moving my hands, gently waggling my fingers. So far so good. Ever so gently, I raised my untested arm, careful to keep the other one still against the sheets. I held that hand before my face, examining it carefully, as though it could tell me what I couldn’t remember. Half scabbed scrapes stretched up the top of my forearm, nearly covering the now-faded, puckered scar along it that I usually tried to keep covered. My knuckles were red and scraped. It looked as though I had used it to shield myself – from the fall? – but other than the falling, nothing came to me. Where on earth was I? I tried not to think about the logistics of, and the impossible events leading up to, my ‘fall’. Moving was a stupid idea, but I had to try. The man could be back at any moment. It occurred to me that he was my keeper, and he had seemed the watchful type. It was quite possible he wouldn’t leave me unguarded again once I had recovered further.

I inhaled sharply, and in one smooth motion, folded my injured arm against my belly, and used my good arm to assist in swinging myself up into a seated position. I tried to swallow a cry of pain as my cradled arm protested at being moved, and tears sprang from my eyes as my left leg exploded in agony at the sudden movement.

Hunched over in pain, I heard the door fling open accompanied by the rapid thudding of running feet, and distantly, beyond the ringing screaming in my ears, a questioning voice calling out. My leg hurt so much that I couldn’t focus or respond, and I just folded over in agony. I screwed my eyes shut tightly but the tears continued to stream freely.

_Good god, make it stop!_ I prayed. I realised I was holding my breath, too, and although rusty, I just barely managed to gain enough control to focus my breathing, slowly, steadily, as I had once been trained to do.

Gradually the pain lessened. Only then did I notice a hand lightly touching my back. It was the blonde man. He was speaking in a soothing voice, and perhaps he had been for some time. I couldn’t recall how long it had been, so intense had the pain been. Carefully, I relaxed my body, leaning back slowly. The stranger’s hand helped me back against the pillows. He swiftly adjusted them as I lay limply back, so that I could sit upright comfortably.

To my dismay he reached out to touch my forehead with the back of his hand. I dared not move, though I would have edged away if I could. He frowned. “You’ve turned pale, and far too cold,” he chided, with a small shake of his head.

I regarded him silently as he reached for the cup of water he had gone to fetch, offering it to me. I only hesitated for a second – I didn’t want him to try to help me drink, at least I could manage that much! – and with my good arm, I reached out to take it.

He moved the chair he had been asleep in earlier to one side a little, so that I wouldn’t have to turn to face him.

_How considerate_ , I thought, acknowledging the note of sarcasm in my thoughts, and glad that I hadn’t spoken aloud. I carefully sipped the water with one hand instead. It was tepid, though fresh. _Don’t they have running water here_ , I wondered?

The blonde man cleared his throat quietly, pulling my attention back to him. “I had assumed you realised your condition once you had woken,” he said wryly. “Or I might have advised you not to move before I left.”

He watched my face with a trace of amusement, the glacier look he had originally greeted me with vanished as though it had never been. I shrugged one shoulder after a moment’s consideration. I could play along. Maybe he would be able to provide me with valuable information on my situation.

“Can’t blame me for trying, surely,” I said slowly, though inside I was thinking furiously. What could I ask that would gain me the most information with the least suspicion? Explaining that I had no idea where I was would be difficult; attempting to explain the teleporting pillar of light and my subsequent fall from a great height would be outright impossible.

“I suppose not.” He continued to watch me from beneath long lashes. Now that I was jolted painfully awake, I saw that he was rather attractive, though his face was narrow, and all sharp angles with his hair pulled back. He looked quite thin, now that I was paying attention. His sinewy appearance, in addition to the smudges under his eyes, made me wonder what his own situation was. A soldier, perhaps? No – he was dressed too informally. Ex-soldier fallen on hard times, maybe, or a mercenary, being paid to watch me while his boss investigated my ransom value?

I tried to keep my face neutral as that thought almost made me laugh out loud. They were sure to be disappointed once they found out who I really was – that is to say, that I was nobody worth ransoming. No reward awaited them, that was for sure.

“Something funny?” he asked, propping an arm on one knee and cupping his chin in one hand.

I sipped from the cup again before answering, trying to control my thirst. I definitely did not relish the idea of attempting to go to the bathroom after the pain of just trying to sit up.

Shaking my head, I tried for a pleading tone. Maybe the helpless girl would gain this man’s sympathy. I had to grudgingly admit it wasn’t entirely for show. “Nothing funny,” I said truthfully. “I’m just… I’m trying to get my bearings.”

He regarded me from the chair, his posture completely at ease. “I see.” He gave nothing away. Looked like I would have to be more direct.

“Where am I?” I asked, meeting his eyes. “How did I survive?”

He raised an arched eyebrow, surprise writ across his face. “You don’t remember?”

I shook my head, and bit back my instinctive—and scathing—reply. _Obviously not, or I wouldn’t be asking!_ I thought indignantly.

“Hmm.” He sat up, leaning forward. “So, tell me what you do recall.”

“I—I—” I stammered, taken aback. I didn’t have a story ready. I couldn’t possibly tell him the truth, I thought, staring down at my hands, my injured arm still curled against my chest with my good arm cradling it. I realised my hands were clenched into fists, and with an effort, I consciously loosened them and breathed out.

The exhale turned into a sigh. No convincing lie came to me. I had never been good at lying. “You wouldn’t believe me, even if I told you. _I_ don’t even believe me.” The despair in my voice was real, but I wished I could hide it; it sounded too raw, too weak.

“Try me,” he said softly. He offered a small encouraging smile. I was nearly lulled by his soft, melodic voice. His smile seemed so genuine, but logically I knew better than to trust him at face value.

His kindness made me want to lash out; to snap at him, or throw something. I supposed that he could be trying to con me, but I’ve always been a fairly decent judge of character, and this man really seemed to me to be genuine. I recognised that it was more the helplessness on my part that was making me feel so waspish. Perhaps it could be safe to trust his words, so long as I was careful.

He picked up a glass of his own—I hadn’t even noticed him pour anything, but now I saw there was a jug of water on a dresser within arm’s reach of his chair—and he took a sip of water.

“Would it help,” he offered, “for you to know that I have seen the pillar of light before? And even travelled within it myself?”

My jaw dropped open, “You—wait— _what_?” I sputtered before I could control myself and grimaced at my lack of restraint.

His innocent expression was ruined by a small smile. He’d read me like an open book. Ugh.

But he only sipped his water in silence, waiting.

“So what is it, exactly?” I asked in a small voice. I’d given myself away, anyway, and he clearly knew more than I had realised. Was it some strange new technology gone wrong? “Some form of transportation?”

Setting the cup down again, he leaned back in his chair, casually crossing his legs as he considered his answer.

“I’m not sure that anyone knows what exactly it is,” he said finally.

“But—” I started to protest. He held up a slender hand placatingly.

“I’ll be as honest with you as I can. But I cannot tell you more than I know. Fair?”

A small sigh escaped me. “Yes, obviously,” I said.

He smiled in what I think he imagined was a reassuring manner, but I was beginning to feel patronised. Perhaps he sensed my irritation, because then he began to speak more readily.

“Please, before we continue, what is your name?” he asked.

The change in topic nearly threw me. A split second’s calculation let me decide that there should be no harm in his knowing my name.

“Skye,” I said. “And you?”

I saw him notice my second of hesitation with a slightly raised brow. He chose not to acknowledge it, however, instead of smiling, he dipping his head in a seated mock-bow. As he leaned forward gracefully, his hair swung over his shoulder, spilling like spun gold over his chest. I was stunned for a moment at the vibrancy of the colour, and I realised just how long it was, even tied back into it’s tail.

“I am Allen Schezar,” he said, head still bowed, and I desperately hoped he was unaware of my reaction. I felt my cheeks grow hot with embarassment. I was far too old for a reaction like this!

Was I imagining the teasing edge to that mellifluous voice?

“Skye,” he said, leaving a long pause where he might have said my surname. “It’s an honour to meet you.” He raised blue eyes to meet mine with a smile.

Good lord. I lost my breath like I’d been punched in the gut. His smile widened, but I was too breathless to feel annoyed. Wanting to do anything to move on from this embarassing moment, I moved the wrong arm to pick up the cup again, and flinching in pain I lost my grip, accidentally flinging the cup and its remaining contents across the bed and onto the floor. It clattered noisily as it hit the floor.

I groaned in pain and muttered a curse, feeling a fool and clutching my arm again.

He was at my side in an instant, concern in his voice. “Steady now—are you alright?” he asked, lightly touching my shoulder.

I took steady breaths through gritted teeth before I could answer. When I had stupidly moved my arm and tried to grip the cup, a fierce shooting pain had travelled all up and through my shoulder. Dismayed, I took a closer look under the wide sleeve of my borrowed nightgown and found that it was bandaged all across my upper arm.

“It really ought to have been in a sling,” Allen said, his voice disapproving. “But they insisted there would be no point until you woke up.”

_I sure could do with a sling now_ , I thought, curling my arm back against my chest, my shoulders drooping in relief as the pain subsided to a dull throb.

“Who is ‘they’?” I asked.

He raised an eyebrow slightly. “Why, the healers, of course.”

I leaned back into the pillows, suddenly feeling drained. “Right. Of course…” This whole conversation had been futile; I knew almost nothing new, and now this stranger knew my name. _Healers_ , though? That sounded rather archaic; perhaps we were remote enough that no real doctors were around…

Allen slowly sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to jolt me too much. This bed felt strange; like it really had no springs in it at all. You just sort of sank into it’s depths. I nearly made a joke, but felt so weary that the humour died in my throat. I had meant to get some information on my situation, had intended to… to…

I blinked rapidly as Allen said gently, “I ought to let you rest.” My eyes fluttered open again.

“N-no,” I said, then cleared my throat. “Please, I need to know what’s happening.”

In vain, I struggled to sit upright again, but the bed defeated me; to shift properly upright would require more movement than I was capable of at that moment.

“Please, try not to move for now,” he said. “You’re in a safe place, you can rest knowing that for now—” A light tap at the door caused him to glance up at the door. My gaze followed his, and I saw a young woman in a plain black, high collared dress at the door, her eyes cast respectfully at the floor.

“What is it?” he asked, authority in his tone.

The girl—maid?—stared at the floor. “Her Grace requests your presence, my lord,” she said calmly, her eyes still downcast.

I frowned at her words. Her Grace? Lord? I looked back at Allen, who nodded with a sigh.

“Please inform her I am on my way,” he said.

The woman bobbed a curtsy, “Very good, my lord,” and was gone as quietly as she came, near silently shutting the door behind her. No wonder I hadn’t heard her arrival. Stealthy was too mild a word.

I eyed Allen, assuming some sort of explanation was imminent.

“I’m no lord,” he muttered. Then, seeing my expression, he repeated with a trace of exasperation, “I am not a lord. I am… well, in somewhat of a dilemma here. My title is currently in, ah… in transition.”

“I…see?” I said, having no idea what he meant at all.

He laughed softly. “I’m afraid you will probably see all too soon.” Then his expression quickly sobered. “I must go now, but please believe that you are safe to recuperate here—I will come visit you again soon.”

“But—”

“The Queen has summoned me; I really should not delay. But—if it will ease your mind to let you rest, I will attempt to answer a couple of questions for you—in brief,” he offered the words kindly, but not without a glance at the door.

_Questions_ , I thought, my mind racing, but where to begin? The pillar of light? No, that was clearly a hard thing to explain judging by our earlier conversation – basic facts first, Skye.

He watched me thinking furiously, blue eyes solemn.

“Okay. Where am I?” I asked, my mind racing ahead to try and figure out the possible locations. Another continent? Surely not. I couldn’t quite place his accent—it could have been a very neutral American, although the maid had sounded very well spoken, almost British but not quite.

He sighed, as though he knew I was not going to like his answer. “Remember, I promised to answer you truthfully,” he said.

Still seated on the edge of my bed, he turned to look up at the window, and beyond it, all I could see of the view was the blue sky with not a cloud in sight.

“You are in the capital city of Palas, in the country Astoria,” he said reluctantly.

Astoria? I thought. I couldn’t recall any such country. The name sounded similar, to... but, no, that couldn’t be—the place I was thinking of was certainly was not an English-speaking one.

“On the planet Gaea,” he added, almost offhandedly.

My eyes widened.

“Wait.” My voice sounded as disbelieving as I felt. “What?!”

He sighed again, still looking up at the view from the window. “I’m sorry Skye, I know this will be hard to accept.”

“Accept?” I snapped without hesitation, my voice turning shrill. “It’s impossible!”

“Please, don’t get upset,” he turned back to me and said pleadingly, “This is exactly what I wanted to avoid until you had recovered a little more.”

My mouth twisted as I attempted to swallow the bitter reality of my situation. “Am I a – prisoner?”

His eyebrows shot up, shocked, “A prisoner? No, of course not – you are a guest in the palace, Skye. An honoured guest.”

I felt myself shutting down, hunching. Of course none of this could be what it seemed. So stupid of me, I had actually let myself begin to feel a little safe.

Another _planet_ though? He was insane! I shook my head, feeling my breathing begin to turn to short gasps. I struggled to get it under control. “Then why are you _lying_ to me?”

“I swear to you, on my honour, I have spoken only the truth to you,” he said, so formally and seriously that I was lost for words.

That doesn’t change anything, I reminded myself. I can’t trust him; I can’t trust anyone here. Even if he _thinks_ he’s telling the truth. He glanced again at the door and I was reminded that my time for questions was running short.

“May I ask one more question?” I asked unsteadily, trying carefully to keep my voice neutral. Pretending to accept his obvious lie. If he was disturbed by my change of character, he was similarly skilled at keeping it to himself.

“Yes, please ask. But I am afraid that then, I must go,” he said, no longer meeting my eyes.

I nodded in agreement. “Gaea, you say?”

“That’s right,” he said, a little suspiciously. I didn’t let myself dwell on it. Work with what you have, I reminded myself.

“Presumably the white pillar of light you spoke of, that is what brought me here?”

He nodded, and before he could do anything else, I quickly added, “—then I would like to know _who_ used it to bring me here, and for what purpose?”

His face darkened, and he stood slowly, carefully easing off the bed. His sudden withdrawal surprised me.

“That,” he said softly, “Is something we all deeply desire to know.”

One more look at the door. “Now, I really must go before I incur her _indomitable_ majesty’s wrath.” He smiled at me, as though he had made a joke, albeit one entirely lost on me, and it faded from his face as he sensed my mood. The tired smudges under his eyes suddenly looked darker, laying heavily on his face as if pasted on.

“If you require any assistance, there should always be a servant nearby to aid you.” He said, his tone business-like as he got up to leave. “If you need to call for their service, just ring the bell on this table; here, I’ll put it closer for you,” he said, plucking up a small bronze bell from a little side table and moving it to the edge so it was within my reach.

The fatigue was back; my eyes felt strangely rubbery, and my feelings, roiling so turbulently only a moment ago, now felt dampened as though under a heavy fog.

“Rest, Skye,” he said softly. “I’ll return to answer all of your questions as best I can—soon.”

I nodded, tiredly, thinking that sleep would be a welcome respite from this madness.

“All right,” I muttered, eyes drooping. “All right...”

He was gone as I slipped into sleep, the sound of the door clicking shut reaching me as I sank into a dreamless, dark sleep.


End file.
